Neverland, obviously
by MorbidMotive
Summary: Johnlock Teenlock AU. Sherlock is new to John's school, and something seems, off about him. Even weirder, nobody knows where he comes from, or how he can just disappear in seconds flat. Is it possible that just to find John? If so, why John, and what's his secret? FLUFF
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

John had had just about enough.

It constantly seemed as though the universe was out to get him. His older sister Harry had been out drinking the night prior, and he had to stay up all night to make sure she didn't get into any trouble, so he didn't study and failed his test. Jim was going to kick his ass.

That was another thing, his parents, the main source of Harry's drinking problem. Their father had died in battle when John was only eight years old and Harry thirteen, then their mother passed away only four years later, leaving them with their stepfather, Jim Moriarty, a cruel man who would beat them whenever he got the chance. Harry was lucky, she was 21 now and out of the house, but John was only 16, and stuck with Jim for another two years.

So he wore jumpers, even in the hot summer he would wear them to hide the bruises. He had made the mistake of telling a teacher at his school when he was fourteen, and as a result, Jim beat him harder than usual and moved them to a new town, far from their old one. That night, the intensity of that one beating was the intensity that he began using in all his beatings. Since his mother's death, John had dislocated both shoulders, his left twice and his right once, broken two ribs, had about ten black eyes, several bruises on his torso and thighs, three broken teeth, a broken wrist and a sprained knee, all at Jim's hand. Sometimes he wondered why he was still alive, weather he wondered why Jim hadn't killed him or he hadn't committed suicide, he wasn't quite sure.

John was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone beeped. He stopped walking to look down at his phone, not minding the delay since it would keep him away from Jim longer. It was a text from Mike Stanford.

_Dude, that new kid was checking you out ;). MS_

John rolled his eyes and sighed.

_Knock it off, Mike, you know I'm not gay. JW_

_Then why did you keep looking at him? MS_

_BECAUSE HE KEPT STARING AT ME. JW_

_Whatever you say, man. Wanna get some pizza later? MS_

_I don't think I can. JW_

_Maybe tomorrow? My dad works late. JW_

_Sure. See you then, and good luck with Jim. MS_

John sighed and pocketed his phone, beginning to walk as he did so. He looked up a moment too late and bumped into someone, causing both of them to fall on their bums. Of course, everything came tumbling out of John's backpack.

"Sorry," John mumbled as he tried to gather his things. A pair of pale, delicate hands reached out to hand some of the supplies to him. He took them from him and looked up to thank the boy once more, a bit more formally, and noticed who it was. "Oh, you're that new kid, uh, Sherlock. You're in my english class. John Watson," he introduced himself as he stuck his hand out to the boy.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said as he accepted it. "So, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Huh?"

"Your father, did he serve in Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Uh, Afghanistan. How did you-"

"You wear dog tags around your neck, therefor someone you know was killed in the war. Afghanistan and Iraq are recent large wars."

"How did you know it was my dad?"

"It could have been an uncle or sibling, but the way you stand and your haircut says that it's something you grew up around, something that impacted you greatly, so it's also safe to assume he did not make it home alive."

John looked down a bit. "Yeah, that's right."

"Was that last part not good?"

"A bit not good, but the rest, well, the whole thing really was bloody brilliant!"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to look surprised. "Really?"

"Of course."

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do people usually say?" John asked.

"Piss off."

The two of them chucked a bit, and John had to admit that it felt nice, and that he liked this new kid. Then something struck his memory. "So, uh, if I may ask, why were you staring at me earlier?"

"Because I find you interesting."

John actually laughed at this. Why would anyone think he was interesting? "Me? What could you, a bloody apparent genius, find interesting about me?"

"I'm not sure, but there's something."

John smiled a little, but it was quickly washed away as he pulled his phone out to check the time. "I'm sorry, I've gotta go."

"You're abused at home, aren't you?" John stopped in his tracks and turned back to Sherlock. Before he could even ask, Sherlock began with more deductions. "You're wearing a jumper even though it's hot out, you looked afraid when you bumped into me, a flash of memory crossed your eyes, and now, you're afraid because you're late to get home."

John looked at him for a moment, then in the direction he needed to go and back at Sherlock. "I uh, I need to go, goodbye," he bid as he turned and ran. He stopped for a moment to look back at Sherlock, but the boy wasn't there, and it made John question whether or not the encounter had happened at all. He could worry about that later, but now he had to really rush to get home on time so that Jim wouldn't beat the life out of him.

Sherlock watched the boy run from his spot on a nearby roof. He smiled as he thought to himself. _Him. He's the one I want to come back with me._

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**I hope you like this story and continue to read it! I'm sorry for the short chapter, others will be longer!**

**Don't forget to fave, follow and review, BUT NO FLAMES**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

John opened the door as cautiously and quietly as he could manage, just incase his dad was in another room. He was relieved to see that his dad was in a different room, and quietly slipped off his shoes and carried them up the stairs to his room. He shut his door gently and locked it, then turned around to be met with Jim.

"Dad, I-" he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence because Jim walked up and harshly slammed john's head into the door so hard that the wood cracked. John slid down to the ground, pressing a hand to his temple as his stepfather looked down at him.

"You're pathetic, you're the reason I'm stuck taking care of you. If you had just been grateful she wouldn't have killed herself!" He kicked John in the stomach and when John was doubled over he proceeded to kick him under his chin, getting part of his throat also. "You pathetic ungrateful bitch!" It was then that he noticed that John had one knew bent and resting on top of his other leg, so he jumped on that knee, bending it and causing poor John to yell out in pain. Satisfied with his work, Jim smirked and walked downstairs and out the door, ti the pub most likely. John waited until he was sure Jim was gone, then took the knee brave he kept under his bed out and put it on his knee. He slowly stood up, win in slightly but ignoring the pain best he could.

He wobbled down the eighteen stairs to the first floor then left the house. He walked into town, where he caught a cab, telling the cabbie to stop at the chocolate store next to Waterloo bridge. The sun had began to set already, on a club of it being fall, and it acted as a distraction for John as he walked alongside the bridge on the small walkway for pedestrians. He stood there, looking out at the water, until the sun had completely set. There was no going back now, Jim would surely kill him for being out so late.

John stared down at the water below and before he knew it, he was standing in the railing, holding onto a lamppost to knee him from falling just yet.

"Don't," he heard a voice say from behind. He gasped and looked to the source of the voice to find Sherlock standing there.

"Why not?" He had meant to San at the boy, but his voice came out vulnerable and shaky.

Sherlock didn't smirk. He didn't smile or make a smartass remark. "Because I find you interesting."

"So?" That time John did snap at Sherlock. He just wanted to get this over with before he changed his mind.

"And I don't find _anyone _interesting."

John turned to look Sherlock in the eye, as if to see if he was just lying to get john down. He didn't appear to be.

* * *

An hour later, John and Sherlock were sat in a tree in the forest, one of the bigger trees with wide trunks and branches strong enough for the both of them. John was good at climbing trees but not so much Sherlock. He had other methods he used to get up high. John leaned down and helped him up, and when he was finally on the branch, he leaned against the trunk and folded his fingers under his chin. They were silent for a few moments before John started to speak quietly.

"My stepdad hasn't always been like this." Sherlock waited for him to continue, not saying a word. John inhaled and continued, hugging his knees to his chest. "My dad was a soldier, as you know. You also know that he died in battle. I was eight years old and my sister was thirteen. My mother had trouble taking care of two kids alone, so she remarried. She met a man named Jim, a very nice man too. He was a great stepfather, but, when I was twelve, I went through this phase, like most pre-teens, where I was selfish and nothing anyone did was good enough. My mom…" he paused here and wiped at his eyes, taking in a small ragged breath, "... my mom felt too unwanted. If I had known what my sister and I was doing to her by being such brats, I would have stopped. She jumped off the same bridge I was on tonight. My mom killed herself because of me."

Sherlock noticed the tears that just barely escaped John's eyes, not missing the ragged breaths or the way he spoke quietly. He wasn't sure what to do, since he hadn't dealt with something like this in a very, very long time. He awkwardly scooted closer to his friend(?) and put an arm around his shoulder. He could feel John tense at the touch and removed his arm. "Not good?"

"No, it's… it's fine."

Sherlock tentatively put his arm back around John's shoulder. John relaxed a little bit and there were no tears in his eyes anymore.

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is."

"I'm a genius and I know that isn't it. I may not have parents, but just the fact that you said several others your age acted this way meant it wasn't you, just your hormonal imbalance, and your mother must have had some form of depression from your fathers death."

John was silent for a moment before looking over at Sherlock. "You, you don't have parents?"

"Nope."

"Who do you live with, if I may ask? Uncle, aunt?"

"Alone."

"Alone? You're my age, how can you live alone?"

"Well, there were some younger boys that hung around with me but, they all left, a long time ago."

"Well, then where do you live?"

"Far away from here. It's a wonderful place but, it can get dull all alone. I have a side-kick of sorts, but she can get a bit clingy."

"What's the name of this wonderful place? Maybe I'll join you there."

"Really?"

"Yeah, if it's alright. So, what was the name?"

"Neverland."

John froze when he heard the name. "Neverland?"

"Yeah, Neverland. Is something the matter?"

"My father used to tell me stories of a place called Neverland. He said it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. He said he went there as a young boy, when his parents died. He said a young man with black curly hair and piercing eyes came and…" he looked over at Sherlock again, "... and the ability to know someone's life in a single glance. His name was-"

"Sherlock," they answered in unison.

"It, it was you? You knew my father when he was a little boy?"

"What was your fathers name? I had six of them and they all had nicknames."

"His name was Michael Watson."

"Oh yeah," Sherlock said as a small smile spread across his face, "I remember him. Well, I remember all the lost boys, but your father was different. We called him Chameleon, since he could hide so well, if he didn't want someone to find him, he wouldn't be found. He was also one of the bravest lost boys I knew. Wasn't afraid to fight against the pirates-you know I almost became one, but figured I would like to do good better than bad- and was never afraid to do what was right. But, he was also the first to leave. After many, many years in wonderland, I decided to let him come with me to visit London, so he could see how much it had changed. As it turned out, he had been there almost a century. We flew around a bit, and that was when he saw her. A young girl about ten or eleven, his age. She was sitting on a balcony and had caught eyes with him. He went down and talked to her, and that was when he decided to stay. They grew up together, got married, and had two children."

"My mother," John said to himself.

"Yes. He's not the only one that left though, they all left at some point." Then, quietly and a bit sadly, he added to himself "Everyone leaves me."

"But, how are you still so young?"

"You never age in Neverland."

"Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning," John recalled quietly. "How would I get there? I can't fly."

"I can help you. I can get my side kick during school tomorrow and take you."

"Alright," John smiled. He wouldn't have to live with Jim anymore. "But wait, what made you come here, what made you come to London and join school?"

"I was looking for you," Sherlock said, as if John should have expected that.

"Me?"

"I do hate repetition, John, but yes, you. Well, not you personally, but for someone to bring back with me, and you seem like a good choice. If you want to go, that is."

"Yes. Yes, I want to go with you, anything to get away from my stepfather."

Sherlock looked at him silently for a few moments, the. Asked "How bad did he hurt you?"

"No worse than usual."

"John, he sprained your knee and your temple had been bleeding, how often does he do this to you?"

It was silent for a moment before John spoke up again. "Every night. Sometimes more than once."

Sherlock tightened the arm he didn't realize was still around John's shoulders. "You won't have to deal with him anymore. We'll stay here tonight, I'll go and get your books, you'll go to school in the morning, then we'll go."

"Or, we could go _before _school."

Sherlock smirked. "If that's what you want. I'll go get Molly later, and we can leave in the morning."

"Molly?"

"My sidekick."

John nodded and yawned. Sherlock took his arm from around John's shoulders and scooted back to the trunk, John following. The branch was wide enough for them both to lean against it, and John was asleep fairly quickly. Sherlock watched him for a few moments, to make sure he was asleep of course, the flew off to get Molly.

* * *

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